Amalgamate
by ewokling
Summary: Sarcastic, neurotic, selfish; all fitting words to describe Dinah. Dead, too, was fitting. It seemed Truth had a dark sense of humor. SI(ish) OC. Follows Brotherhood plotline.
1. Bring You Down

**Amalgamate**: to unite in or as if in a mixture of elements; _especially_ : to merge into a single body

* * *

Being between two planes of existence was unlike anything she could comprehend. The surroundings were so blindingly empty, the gate behind the only object in view. The floor wasn't really a floor at all, even though the space beneath her feet felt solid enough.

Truth grinned, teeth bared, and the girl swallowed down hysterics.

"Welcome, welcome!"

"Is this hell?" She began to recall her last memories; car horns, eviscerated flesh and metal, and excruciating pain.

Truth pressed its palms onto its knees, sitting in a relaxed cross-legged position.

"No. You did die, though."

"So you're God. Peachy."

Truth shrugged, ignoring her sarcastic jib. "One of many of my names. You're here by my hand. In a few moments you'll be passed on through the Gate."

The girl briefly wondered why she wasn't screaming about all of this. "Why?"

A grin flashed, again. "Who's to say? Your time was up, I'm bored. I don't think my answers would satisfy you."

The girl was silent for a brief second before looking at the space where Truth's eyes should have been. Blank space. Nothingness. Void. "What's the cost of this miracle?"

"Ah yes! Equivalent exchange." Truth stood, extending an arm to the side. "Your death and subsequently your life are all enough." The body of a pink, premature baby materialized near Truth's hand, more real than any hologram. "Where you're going your body can't follow, not that it exists on a physical plane much more anyway."

The girl's body began to disintegrate, cell by cell, and the scream previously held inside her throat expelled out. If this had been Earth and not the Void, if she had a physical form, she was sure she would have damaged her vocal cords.

Truth's grinning face were the last things she saw before completely depleting, and her soul resounded out into the now open Gate.

Information pressed its way into her conscious, strings of energy passing by too quick for deeper comprehension. The summative knowledge of everything was too vast, too great, and the girl could feel her sanity near the brink.

_Too much, too much, too much toomuchtoomuch-_

And then, light.

* * *

The baby's name was Dinah.

She was born premature and tiny, coming into the world struggling for her place immediately.

Danika Lockwood looked over her newborn child with tears in her eyes. The miscarriage she had a year prior was heartbreaking, but finally their second child was born, as healthy as she could possibly hope for her to be, considering. Dinah was handed off to her father, who cooed over her gently while her brother sat impatiently.

The family had expected wailing and tears, but they never came. Their baby girl never cried, even when contracting pneumonia a year later, once again so close to death. Sure, she gargled and smiled and flailed like a baby. She didn't cry.

Tufts of bright red hair sprouted from her head, matching Danika's, and emerald eyes carefully watched her surroundings. They were almost too intelligent for a baby. Suspicions were quickly offset by gibberish, a building block thrown wildly, maniacal laughing at her brother. Standard baby behavior.

Rowan carried his sister around on his back constantly at home ever since she could hold herself up. He'd babble on excitedly about their small house near the outskirts of East City, their mother's cooking, their father's military job. The first moment Dinah saw her father in the traditional blue getup her tiny brows knit together, and Rowan thought his sister would finally break into tears. The moment passed and their father exclaimed as she took the cloth in her mouth.

Dinah picked up walking faster than most babies, much to her mother's excitement. A little over a year old and she was walking, talking, and fully potty trained. At two she was speaking and writing full sentences. At three she could speak with surprising grace, reading voraciously every book provided.

Danika called her a genius. Dinah knew better.

In the night she would steal books from her father's collections, reading about alchemic compounds and transmutations by flashlight as Rowan slept in the bed across from her. A brief test proved her correct one morning as she pressed her palms together and slammed down on the floor, a cup created from only bits of wood and no transmutation circle.

She had seen Truth and passed through the Gate, and that was enough.

She kept her ability under wraps, unsure how much her father would assume if he saw.

Dinah's days were filled with lessons, as both her and Rowan were homeschooled. It became apparent to Danika that Dinah didn't require instruction on subjects more than once.

Once again she was heralded a genius. Dinah's discomfort grew.

The first night her father brought work friends home was the first night Dinah cried. The sight of Maes Hughes and Roy Mustang in her kitchen was too much to bear, and she stood in the doorway after being introduced and wept, Rowan furiously trying to calm her. They couldn't have been older than nineteen, and clearly uncomfortable.

Despite the awkward first meeting the men came to be regular dinner guests at the Lockwood household, until the civil war in Ishval called for the State Alchemists. Her own father joined them.

The news of her father's death came just two years later clad in blue, and Danika broke.

Rowan channeled his hatred towards the military by making friends with older kids with heavy anti-establishment leanings. Danika channeled her grief towards alcohol. If it weren't for the money allotted to them from her father's death Dinah could have sworn they'd be vagrants.

Her new family was broken, and she was on her own again.

* * *

The irony of her rebirth was not lost on Dinah.

Back in her old life the name meant judgement, or God will judge. She supposed maybe Truth had a terrible sense of humor.

Though the name itself was familiar, the world she was born in was not. There was no defined religion as far as she could tell. Judaism and Christianity did not exist, simply Letoism and Ishvalan, and whatever smaller bursts of worship across Xing and Amestris.

No Shabbat. No Synogagues. No Mezuzah affixed to the walls or doors.

Truth itself had shattered prior religious beliefs she knew with its mere existence; it had even admitted one of its titles was God, blasphemy in itself. It didn't matter too much to her, she considered. She had never been too ingrained with her family's practices.

(_Her old family's practices_)

It was hard, at first, to play the role of a small baby. Her knowledge on infants was minimal at best. Copying what she had seen from movies and friends' children seemed to work, and nobody looked too hard at her if she covered up mistakes with drool or a fart.

She simultaneously thanked and cursed her prior knowledge. Cursed, because she knew those blue uniforms, knew what they represented, knew who Roy Mustang and Maes Hughes were and exactly what would happen to them both. Thanked, because at least she had an idea of what to expect and how to stay out of it.

In her past life she was born and bred in a family of soldiers, nearly all men in her family having served some time in some war, somewhere. She would need those skills they taught her if it were to come to it. Though she could shoot a gun (maybe, if only her muscles could remember as much as her brain), and she was athletic (not in this body, as sickly as it tended to be), she wasn't a soldier in her past life, and she refused to be one now. Come hell or high water, she would not don that blue military fit like her current (dead, he was dead) father. She would not become a dog of the military, in any form.

There was a semblance of a chance she would be tugged forcefully into the Plot, and for that reason she poured obsessively over alchemy texts. That, and it was really fucking cool. Equivalent exchange was a scientific concept, and one that made sense to her, but creating an article of clothing with merely a clap of her hands and some fabric was mind-blowing, and dangerously addictive. She memorized the structure and form of transmutation circles, knowing that it could be bad news if she exposed that knowledge to anyone who had an inkling of Truth, or the Gate, or human transmutation.

It would do her well to be underestimated if something were to happen.

Until then (_if _something happened), she would try and be as prepared as she could be.

* * *

The sky was an ominous grey as Dinah walked home from the store, a bag of necessities in tow. Rowan was hardly home anymore, and if left to her own devices Danika would waste away from malnutrition, so Dinah took up the task of feeding everyone. Not that she minded, really. The occasional times Rowan would eat with her he'd compliment her creativity with the dishes.

"Did you come up with this by yourself?"

"I think I read it in a book."

It wasn't lying, really, because she probably had read the recipes in books. Another lifetime ago.

The Ishvallan conflict was over but it wasn't hard to see the toll it had taken on everyone. Soldiers throughout the city were haggard and the families of them Dinah saw were strained. She knew already how effective the State Alchemists had been considering their amplified powers, but the death toll was still staggering, especially for any soldier serving without alchemy experience. She had seen those faces in her old family; in her brothers, her father, her grandfather. She knew it was grief.

She wished her father had been more passionate on the subject. Not only would it have left her with more reading material but it probably would have aided to his survival on the battlefield. He was a hobbyist of alchemy, though, so his knowledge was limited. Thus, the library had become her second home now.

Dinah had been left to her own devices since his death, and she had begun a routine of cooking breakfast, heading to the library for a few hours, coming home for menial chores and dinner, practicing her (no doubt atrocious) self defense moves, and writing alchemy notes and theories down in her journals.

The library had books on martial arts and self defense, and she had a prior lifetime of basic knowledge, but her new body fatigued quicker than she was used to, and her progress was slow. She wasn't confident in holding her own if a fight arose.

Walking up the steps to the house she noticed Rowan's bike was gone. He probably wouldn't be home tonight again.

"I'm home," Dinah called, sliding off her shoes and making her way inside. There were no sounds of movement and so Danika must either be sleeping or drunkenly staring out the window, as she had taken to doing most days. Maybe if she watched long enough, father would come walking down the street back into their lives.

Dinah put away the groceries and heated up some soup, softly padding upstairs with a bowl and tray. If she was lucky Danika would already be settled down for the day.

"Mom? I have soup and tea. You've gotta eat someth-"

The tray spilled out of her tiny arms, but she didn't flinch at the scalding liquid that sprayed onto her arms, legs, and feet. There would be angry, red burns, she knew. She didn't care.

Danika Lockwood lay still in her bed, crimson staining the linen from her torn open wrists. The contrast between her white skin and the blood made her look utterly ethereal and truly ghostly.

Dinah squeezed her eyes shut, practicing the controlled breathing techniques she used since birth.

_Breathe in four, hold four, exhale four._

Repeat three more times.

It took everything in her to open her eyes again, furiously reminding herself she needed to compartmentalize to get through this. She could dwell and grieve later. Lock it down now. Her stomach clenched and she swallowed bile.

Dinah wrapped Danika in the sheets, doing her best to be gentle.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, closing her mother's eyes. They were a dull reflection of her own.

As darkness descended on the house Dinah cleaned up the excess blood and spilled food, taking care to dispose of anything stained, save for the linens. She placed salve on her burns and wrapped them gently in gauze. Carefully, meticulously, she gathered up her mother's wedding ring and some small jewelry in her jewelry box, placing them on the wood floor. Her palms pressed together with a clap then to the floor, something akin to lightning fizzled, and she picked up the necklace she made for herself. The cool metal felt familiar as she passed it over her head, seeming to weigh heavy on her throat.

A star of David, simple in its design, but a reminder of what she was letting go.

Her past life. Her current life. Her mother. Any hope of staying out of Plot.

She steeled herself once more and went towards the phone, looking through the worn book beside the machine. She found the number a couple pages in, and she stared over at her packed and collected belongings sadly as she dialed and rang.

"Who is this? How did you get this number?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Mustang. You may not remember me but my name is Dinah Lockwood."

* * *

Rowan didn't come home, just as Dinah predicted. Even if he intended to tonight he most likely would have turned the other way at the sight of so many men in uniform around the house. A shame, really, because her brother was good at comforting her when she was stressed. And stressed was an understatement right now.

Roy Mustang was silent as Dinah lead him into Danika's room, and she wished she could tell what he was thinking. No doubt the idea of a nine year old girl tucking away her dead mother with an outwardly calm appearance was enough to inspire something. Danika's body hadn't been moved from the bed, mostly because Dinah wasn't confident in her ability to physically move her anywhere, and also because she had no idea where she would have moved her to. She was wrapped carefully in the blood-soaked linens, as still as stone.

_(It was wrong to look at the deceased once they were gone)_

"Why didn't you call someone?" Mustang asked, and as he eyed the empty liquor bottles strewn about the room Dinah knew he wasn't referring to what had just recently happened.

She gave a halfhearted shrug. "Everyone had their own families to deal with."

She trailed behind him as he looked through the rest of the house, taking note of the piles of alchemy books and journals in Dinah's room. Once outside in the fresh air he pinched the bridge of his nose, sending a look over to Riza Hawkeye.

"Please don't send me to an orphanage," Dinah finally spoke, knowing that their shared look was a silent question on what to do with her. "I don't want to go there."

A tense silence ensued.

"Your father saved my hide back in Ishval. I wasn't able to do anything for him then, and I can't do anything for him now, except this. I see you're interested in alchemy," Mustang gave Dinah a small smile, resting his hand on her head. "We can make something work, for now."

"I'd like that very much," Dinah whispered, her voice breaking.

She couldn't hold back any longer, and Hawkeye held the young girl gently as sobs racked her body, telling her it would be alright now.

But it wouldn't be alright. Dinah was in a different world, in a different body, all on the bored whims of a fucking God. Her father and mother were dead, her brother missing alongside anarchists.

(_Her father and mother weren't dead, she was dead. She was dead dead deadeadeadead-_)

It would have been so easy to pick the coward's way out, to go to the orphanage and sever herself from Plot. She could have chosen to be an innocuous civilian with a penchant for alchemy.

Instead she was diving headfirst into the largest ordeal she could imagine.

* * *

**Note:**

**Everyone laugh at the idiot who decided to start a new story while still updating three others. Hint: the idiot is me. Bah.**

**Found an old draft for this on my iPad and decided to turn it into something. It went through a lot of rewrites, but I'm pretty okay with where it is now. Hopefully you found it enjoyable so far. **

**Lots of skips, will become less so really soon. The beginning chapters have always been like that for me.**


	2. Shake It Out

"Lean your weight onto your back left foot, aaand pivot!"

Dinah grimaced as she followed Mustang's overenthusiastic instructions. The backyard was nice in the springtime, she thought, concentrating completely on ignoring his intense expression. She doubted Mustang had been the one to plant lillies, but still. They added something at least.

Still, for all her internal complaints her morning stretches and spars with him had only made her more agile and flexible. It was leaps and bounds better than trying to replicate moves from library books. She would take whatever strength she could get, even if it came from an egocentric man chanting yoga poses at her.

Very quickly Dinah realized that not only was Mustang a workaholic, but he had no clue how to properly care for himself, least of all another person. Aside from when the two would spend time together she was left to do pretty much whatever she wanted. She silently remarked at how lucky he was that she was independent, lest he be faced with accusations of child neglect.

The duplex-like structure he lived in was nice. At least, on the exterior. The inside was an entirely different story.

There was an incomprehensible lack of furniture; the living room had a couch, a coffee table, and a single solitary lamp. There were bookshelves lining the walls, packed full of alchemy texts, but it seemed to be the only thing that Mustang had given any thought to. His own bedroom was a disaster; dirty dishes on his desk and nearly every surface, his clothing strewn about in heaps on the floor. The ones that were clean were neatly folded or hung in the closet.

Even her own bedroom, formerly the guest bedroom, had a single twin bed and a small desk. This would have to be rectified immediately; she needed shelves and a dresser, among other things.

She also learned he had no idea how to deal with children, and opted instead for talking to her like an adult, for which she was grateful.

Their routine was becoming familiar. Dinah would stretch with him in the morning, and then the two would make their way into East Area Headquarters, Dinah there under the guise of bringing them breakfast. It became apparent very quickly that everyone was either terrible at cooking for themselves or just skipped meals. One of the most useful things Dinah learned under Mustang's tutelage was how to charm and suck up to others. She never needed to with Hawkeye or the like, but somehow nobody questioned an eleven year old girl helping out with paperwork or exchanging jokes with the soldiers.

As bratty as Mustang could be he carried an air of charisma that Dinah could only hope to replicate one day.

Taking into account the way he dressed she supposed it made sense. Mustang was particular about his wardrobe, even on his off days. The warm, black jacket he frequently sported cost enough to make Dinah choke once he told her. With his pay, though, he could afford it. And then some.

She had been particularly confused when he took her out shopping one of the first days she had come to stay with him. The whole experience had been incredibly awkward, and she was even more confused at the stores he took her to; higher end clothing shops with prices that she never could have afforded, in this life or her prior one.

She had stood in the doorway, not daring to breathe or even feel the fabric of the garments between her fingers, worried they would spontaneously catch on fire, or something. She felt so out of place.

"What's wrong?" Mustang had asked, his brow crinkled in worry. He was wearing his uniform, a usual thing she later realized, as it made women more easily charmed apparently.

"Are you...sure?" She asked hesitantly, flipping over the tag on a sweater and raising her brows.

She had expected him to wave her concerns off with a hand, to boast about his income from being a State Alchemist. Instead, he simply said: "If you dress like a rich bureaucrat people tend to underestimate you. And besides," he added, an afterthought. "They're more comfortable."

It was at that moment that Dinah had realized that Mustang had plans for her. There was something to be said about someone who could perform alchemy, schmooze with the military, and look into things independently.

A successor of sorts? A mole, going where he couldn't with the military watching his back? She had no clue.

She kind of liked the idea of that, though.

Riza Hawkeye, for all her hesitancy, was much more amicable and welcome than Mustang, at least outwardly.

She had a warmth to her that made Dinah truly understand why it was that Mustang was undoubtedly, secretly, head over heels for her. She was patient and kind, and impressed at how quickly Dinah caught onto the basics of using a handgun. This was all done with careful supervision, of course.

Dinah had never been a fan of politicking, or the weird way intel traveled through military headquarters. She did like the architecture of East Central, though.

"Good morning Dinah, Colonel," Hawkeye greeted, whispering a thanks as Dinah passed her a muffin.

"Second lieutenant," Mustang responded, greedily taking his third muffin of the morning and effortlessly skirting around Dinah's attempts to keep the basket away.

"Save some for everyone else!"

"You'll make more," He said simply.

Dinah grumbled. "That's not that point."

"Today we will be taking a trip to Resembool," Mustang addressed the two of them, and Dinah's stomach dropped. She had known it would happen, but so soon? "I received a tip about an alchemist there since our last two trips were fruitless."

_(Resembool, the Elrics, human transmutation, an abomination gone wrong-)_

"All the way out in the country?" Dinah asked, and Mustang shrugged, handing papers off to Fuery.

"Alchemists can be found everywhere. You of all people should know that."

Again she wondered how he was able to whisk her away to whatever important tasks were to be had without his superiors' knowledge.

The train was loud, noisy, and thoroughly prevented any sleep that may have come. Not that she could sleep, really, she was too filled with nervous tension to do so. Hawkeye caught onto this early into the trip, asking Dinah if she needed something to drink, if she was cold, if she was okay.

She wasn't okay. But that was the norm now, it seemed.

Having never been out of East Central in this life, the sight of rolling fields and rural buildings filled her with a sense of longing. She missed this, she knew, this comforting simplicity that had escaped her in the bustling city she had been born in.

Hawkeye remarked on how unfortunate it was that they were arriving well after the Sheep Festival.

Mustang remarked on how well the place had cleaned up after the Ishvalan war.

The building that housed the Elric brothers may have been warm and inviting, once upon a time. A simple, whitewashed structure, with a picket fence and ample land to play in. A tree, with a rope swing dangling from it. Dinah didn't rate her chances on sitting upon it, though.

Nobody occupied the home, and it was only when Mustang reached the top floor that he stilled, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of a giant blood stain, a transmutation circle, obvious trauma. Dinah stared at the blood soaked floor until her eyes watered from not blinking; Pinako had found the abomination, hadn't she? That woman had nerves of steel.

There wasn't anything she could've done, she told herself. She was miles away.

_(She could have snuck out, she could have hopped a train, she could have showed up unannounced, unknown-)_

Luckily for them, the first neighbor they came upon were the ones they were looking for. Rockbell Automail. The building looked interesting; a large balcony on the second floor overlooking the entry, painted green around the trim.

Pinako answered the door, and as soon as it was opened Mustang barged through like he owned the place. The man was on a mission, and he could not be stopped.

"Sorry for the intrusion," Dinah apologized, trailing behind her caretaker and his bodyguard.

"What are soldiers bursting in here for? And a girl?"

Seeing Edward Elric in a wheelchair was a sight Dinah knew she'd never forget. He looked so small, so so small. His golden eyes stared unceasingly at the ground, unfocused.

(They were golden, they were supposed to be full of fire, they were supposed to burn-)

Alphonse stood behind, looking for all the world like the statue his soul was bonded to. Although encased in a shell of metal, his ruby eyes were gleaming, holding the most remorseful look she had ever seen.

Mustang hefted Ed by his shirt collar, incensed. "We went to your house. What was that over there? What did you make?"

Ed didn't respond, and it was only when Alphonse pressed a hand gently to Mustang's arm that the man was broken out of his fit of anger.

"We're sorry. Please forgive us. We're sorry. We're sorry. We're sorry."

A beat of silence passed before Mustang directed everyone aside from the boys and Pinako out of the room, and Dinah stole one last glance at Ed and Al. Al's red, glowing orbs widened imperceptibly as he looked up at the redhead.

Hawkeye gave Dinah a small smile as the two sat upon the bench in the hallway, her back as straight as ever. Dinah sighed.

She was breathing in the strangely comforting smell of oil and metal as a small head of blonde hair poked around the corner, blue eyes fixed into a glare.

Winry was as cherubic and cute as ever, her blonde hair silky and gleaming in the afternoon light. She had a stubborn set to her chin, and from where she sat Dinah could already see callouses on her tiny hands. The girl didn't say anything, simply glaring daggers at the redhead with a clenched fist. Tentatively, Dinah waved.

Winry strode up towards the two, ignoring Hawkeye for the smaller girl in front of her.

"You're here to take Ed and Al away."

Wasn't she supposed to be shy and nervous and forlorn? Wasn't she supposed to ask Hawkeye why she was here? Why was she angrily speaking to Dinah?

She was spared the hassle of responding by Hawkeye smoothly cutting in.

"That's their choice. State Alchemists get access to research, and funding for their own research. It might be something that interests those two."

Winry's shoulders slackened, and she stared down at the wooden floor.

"They wouldn't tell me anything, and now they're..."

"This is their home. Even if they leave, they'll come back to you."

Winry looked up at Dinah, eyes wide.

For all her experience Dinah had no earthly clue how to comfort others, much less children. She herself was uncomfortable with the whole exchange. The words she told the blonde were corny, and dumb, but they seemed to work. Winry once again looked determined, and she nodded as the door to the dining area opened, Hawkeye immediately jumping up to follow behind as Mustang made for the front door.

"We're going."

Dinah looked over at Winry once more, holding out her hand.

"I'm Dinah."

"Winry."

"I hope we can be friends."

* * *

"What do you think?"

Dinah looked over the meal she had cooked for the both of them, grimacing.

"I think I added too much garlic." She poked the cut of steak before her.

Mustang sighed. "Your cooking is fine. I meant about the Elrics."

Of course he was talking about the Elrics, it was the whole reason Dinah tried to deflect by talking about the food. She mulled over her thoughts for a moment, taking time to chew and swallow her bite of dinner.

"They'll come. It's not like they have much other choice."

Mustang snorted. "They do, just likely not as appealing."

Dinah hmm'd, staring over at the silver pocketwatch Mustang had set upon the kitchen counter. She had never seen him open it even to check the time.

Alchemy was just a tool, and it was up to the user to decide whether it would be used for good or evil. With a military as corrupt as this one was, it shouldn't come as much surprise to her most State Alchemists ended up using it for evil, voluntarily or otherwise. A wave of unease washed over her, and she frowned, collecting her plate and scraping the leftovers into the trash.

Mustang looked up. "Feeling alright?"

Dinah gave a noncommittal shrug. "Dunno yet."

"Would _you_ ever become a dog of the military?"

The redhead paused in front of the bookshelf, a hand outstretched towards the book she wanted. She turned to her caretaker, placing said hand on her hip and raising a brow. "Now why would I do a stupid thing like that?"

A beat of silence passed before Mustang smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing. Dinah replied with a grin of her own before hefting the books into her hands and walking towards her room.

"Your laundry is in the dryer and it has about fifteen minutes left, don't forget to take it out right away or else it'll get wrinkled!"

As she closed the door behind her she could hear Mustang muttering complaints. Better that than him trying to bust out the iron again.

* * *

**Note:**

**Ahh, inept but domestic Mustang. **

**Here Dinah is introduced to the Elrics, albeit briefly. Most of this chapter is setup for the ones to come; I'm planning on getting the ball rolling pretty soon with the interaction between Ed and Al and Dinah.**

**Many thanks to those that have followed and lurked, and big shoutout to MentalForge for the review. Y'all are too kind to me.**


	3. Youth Without Youth

"And look, Dinah! Gracia got a huge haircut, seven whole inches off! Doesn't the shorter style compliment her beautiful face?"

With an overenthusiastic Maes Hughes rambling on in front of her it was hard to get a word in edge-wise, and as soon as she opened her mouth to agree at the picture he pushed in her face he pressed on.

"Of course, my Gracia looks beautiful with any hairstyle! She could wear a dress made of burlap and I'd still take her out to dinner."

"Hughes," Mustang called out warningly, tapping a finger on the table. "If you don't leave the girl be we'll be sitting here waiting for her to order all day."

"Fine, fine. But one day you'll be hearing about Dinah's beau and you'll have nobody to turn to for advice except me."

The redhead let out a choke as Mustang's brow twitched, a vein in his head growing by the second.

"Over my dead body," He hissed.

Dinah looked back down at the menu, trying to ease the flush she could feel creeping up her neck. "I'd feel sorry for the guy who had to meet with him to get to me," She admitted.

The restaurant they were at was nice, though she lamented that it was getting too chilly to eat outside in the sunshine. Hughes dropped by as often as he could, when he wasn't weighed down with work or his wife, and took a train to East Central to visit his friend. As overwhelming as his antics could be, Dinah appreciated his company.

She was also grateful to Mustang for letting her share his time with Hughes. Maybe it was the long-established fact that her caretaker wanted to teach her the ways of military politicking, but whatever the reason the more time she spent listening to the two men talk the more insight it gleaned into just how exhausting Mustang's goal was.

"Speaking of," Hughes began, his tone shifting. "I wouldn't walk alone after dark if I were you. There's been another body found in Central."

The pasta Dinah had been looking over with marinara didn't sound so appealing anymore.

"A body or parts of a body?" She asked, looking down as Mustang caught her eye and sent a look.

"There's no use being coy with you, Dinah," Hughes admitted. "Still, don't go out alone."

"She doesn't get out of the house much as it is," Mustang grunted, and Dinah rolled her eyes at him.

She did leave...sometimes. Even if it was just to get groceries or buy new alchemy books or head off with him to headquarters. She had everything she needed in her home with Mustang. She spent time with Hawkeye, too.

The waitress came by for the second time, and Dinah gave her order, sitting back and listening to the two men talk in front of her while she sipped her tea.

It was September, and next month, soon, Ed would be taking the State Alchemist Certification Exam. There was no way in hell she'd be able to watch that, but she'd get a detailed account out of Mustang, that was for sure.

If she could just get ingratiated with the brothers then she had access to certain events, and potentially prevent them from happening altogether. Shou Tucker's horrific acts were her first goal.

She could make some excuse about wanting to learn more about his research, maybe-

"Dinah?"

Broken out of her reverie she looked up to find that not only were their plates empty, but Mustang had already gotten the check and laid the appropriate bills down in the folder.

"Sorry, was spacing out," She admitted, waving her hands at Hughes' concerned expression.

After reassuring the two that she was fine and they should head home, they departed.

* * *

Dinah sighed and leaned back against her bedpillows, rubbing her palms into her eyes until spots appeared before them. Hughes and Mustang had convened out in the living room, a bottle of whiskey shared between them as they talked about who knew what.

It had been a whim, but she had spent the last few hours pouring over certain books Mustang owned, thoroughly unimpressed with the lack of information she was gleaning from them.

It had started with an innocent enough question: was it possible to use alchemy to close up wounds and heal broken bones?

She knew it was; memories from a lifetime ago revealed that somewhere along the line Ed did seal up a wound in his gut. And that alchemist Marco healed people in that village he was hiding away in.

The theory behind healing a broken bone was simple enough to her; you would deconstruct the parts of the bone near the break and then reconstruct them into one whole unit. That act of healing was probably the most simple of them all, only knowing the chemical makeup of bone. When you started talking about ruptured organs or internal bleeding, that was infinitely more complicated.

Still, if the act of alchemy was comprehension, deconstruction, and reconstruction then in order to heal various wounds on the body you would need to understand to an almost perfect degree what made up the parts you were trying to heal, specifically. If it was something more than a cut or broken bones, you would need materials to make up for what wasn't there to fill in the gap.

Dinah wished there was more information in Amestris about Alkahestry. She knew it used the flow of chi in the body to accelerate the cells, but she had no idea about the principles or anything behind it, and she couldn't find anything to even hint at it.

She let out a frustrated yell, throwing the book she was holding onto the floor.

For all the wonders of alchemy in this world, it was made even more glaringly obvious the focus was for battle and military conquest with the lack of information she found.

With a glance at the clock she sat up, collecting the books that were strewn about and closing one of her journals. It was late, and as she tread through the house she made note of the fact that Hughes had finally left and Mustang had turned into bed. With a blanket draped across her shoulders Dinah made her rounds, checking to make sure that every window and door was locked tight.

Biological alchemy was interesting, and maybe if she posed the idea of it in a practical, medicinal way, Mustang would allow her to see Shou Tucker for herself.

As she walked through the kitchen and opened the cupboards, she poured herself a glass of water, feeling the pressure build behind her eyes and radiate towards the back of her skull. This body was such a pain sometimes, and she watched the strange static and amoebas in the corner of her vision, frowning.

She swallowed the medicine and took a deep breath, pressing her hands along the ceramic of the sink and staring into the depths of the drain.

Ed was strong because he was a jack of all trades when it came to alchemy, never specializing in one specific type. Trying to understand and devour as much as she could about everything was something Dinah would need to do in order to hold her own against what was up ahead.

_(If she didn't get in the way-)_

A loud noise broke her away from her thoughts, and Dinah looked up into the darkness of her home, wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Her steps took her to Mustang's room, and she cracked open the door, noting that in his inebriated state he had forgotten to turn out the lamp on his desk. Her caretaker was wrapped tightly in his bedding, shuddered gasps and sobs emanating from the sheets.

Another night terror.

Gently Dinah sat herself on the edge of the bed, pressing a hand onto where she assumed his shoulder was. Immediately his own hand withdrew from the blankets, gripping her wrist with extreme force. His nails dug into her flesh, blood quickly beading to the surface, and Dinah swallowed thickly.

"Roy, wake up," She whispered, keeping her distance.

It did something, because she felt him twitch on the bed. He could hear her, at the very least.

"You're home. It's September twenty-fourth, and tonight we went out to dinner with Hughes. You pointed out that the waitress was flirting with you. This morning I made us breakfast, omelets. You ate it even though it had mushrooms in it. "

Another twitch, and Mustang's breathing sped up even more, quickly becoming even more uneven than before.

"You're safe, Roy. We're home." Dinah said, trying to avoid mentioning Ishval for fear of how he reacted last time.

She could feel the tremors relax, the shaking of the bedframe cease as Mustang slackened, sinking back into his mattress. He finally released his grip on Dinah's wrist, slowly turning to face the girl before him. His eyes were turned to the floor, and she could see the red rimming them where there were no doubt tears moment ago.

It was easy to forget that for all his bravado and power, Mustang was human.

Though the night terrors were fleeting and far between, they still served as a strong reminder of that.

"Are you back?" She softly asked, trying to keep her blood from dripping onto the linen.

A moment passed before Mustang responded, draping an arm over his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Pushing herself up off the bed, Dinah grabbed the empty glass on the bedside, turning off the light and closing the blinds.

"It's fine, don't worry. Try and get some sleep, I'll get you some water."

The silence once again encompassed the house as Dinah headed to the bathroom, taking out the medical kit and dabbing antiseptic onto her new wounds. After the dressings were tightly wrapped she filled the glass and headed back into Mustang's room, a soft smile gracing her lips as she took in his sleeping face.

She set the water on the table and quietly padded out, returning to her own bedroom and laying down on the covers.

Massaging her temples Dinah let out a deep sigh, turning to stare out the window into the night.

* * *

"Dinah! Bringing the Colonel lunch again?"

The redhead gave a wide grin to the soldier before her, inwardly cursing for not remembering his name. She had seen him quite a few times near the reception desk. Raymond? Roan? She hastily scribbled her name onto the sign-in sheet.

"Yes, honestly I think if I don't he won't eat until supper."

"Did he tell you the State Alchemist Exams were today? You should've seen it; a kid about your age."

"Actually that's part of the reason I'm here," Dinah responded, waggling her brows conspiratorially as she made her way towards where Mustang's office was. "See you later Roger!"

The man waved goodbye, chuckling to himself as she sped off.

If she hadn't been so anxious she might have paid better attention to where she was going, and as she rounded a corner she collided with something. Hard.

"Ow! Watch where you're-"

The roast chicken was untouched, still wrapped tightly in tin foil from where it lay on the ground beside her, and Dinah was thankful she hadn't brought soup as she originally planned, her mind immediately blanking out as she took in the figure before her.

Golden eyes stared at her, wide, and she felt like her mouth was entirely too dry at the moment.

"Sorry," She forced out, jumping up and patting the dirt away from her skirt as she held out a hand. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

It took a moment for Ed to take her hand, slowly standing on his elevator shoes and taking in the girl before him, a covered plate resting in her palms.

They would have been the same height, if not for the shoes. He sported the usual all-black attire, save for his red cloak, and though she couldn't see the flamel on the back she knew it was there.

It was intimidating standing before Edward Elric in the flesh.

"You... you were in Resembool."

Dinah gave him a small smile, trying not to fidget under the intensity of his gaze. "Yeah."

"You're not another State Alchemist," Ed voiced, eyebrows knit together. "What're you, Mustang's daughter?"

"No, not really. He took me in when I was young. I'm just here bringing him lunch." She held up the plate as if to emphasize her point.

She had come here specifically for the chance to meet Ed, but now the moment felt so awkward...

"It was nice to see you again," Dinah began, slowly moving backwards down the hallway. "My name's Dinah, by the way. Congratulations on passing the exam!"

Leaving Ed to stand bewildered she made her way down to Mustang's office, hurriedly greeting those she passed by.

That meeting definitely wasn't what she'd had in mind, but with a start she realized that she really didn't have any idea of what she would say if she _did_ bump into Ed. She had come here blindly hoping for the chance to meet him, to really meet him this time, and now she felt like she had made an ass of herself.

She knocked on the door to Mustang's office, groaning internally as she entered the room and laid down the meal on his desk.

"You just missed Edward Elric, or should I say, the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Dinah collapsed into one of the chairs, resting her cheek on her palm. "I ran into him a moment ago. Literally."

An amused expression took over Mustang's features, and he began digging into the chicken before him voraciously, continuing between bites.

"He made a spear without the use of a transmutation circle and pointed it at the Fuhrer."

"That's bold," Dinah admitted, raising her brows and watching him devour the meal in record time.

With a sigh Mustang sat back in his chair, wiping his mouth and staring at the plate before him with a melancholy look on his face.

"They're looking for the Philosopher's Stone, and I may have told them about a priest in Liore with unusual powers."

As expected, yes.

"I need you to do something for me."

Dinah's heart leapt in her chest, her back straightening as she laid her hands in her lap.

This was what she had been waiting for, right? An opportunity to do something, to ingratiate herself with the brothers and their quest? A chance to make a change, maybe turn things in a better direction?

"I need you to head to Liore, keep an eye on them for me."

"Why? Isn't he a State Alchemist now?"

Mustang steepled his fingers together, staring out the window. "He'll have to send in a written report on his findings. I would feel better if I heard it directly from you as well. Besides," He continued, adopting a teasing tone of voice. "You barely get out, it would be good for you to see some of Amestris."

Dinah rolled her eyes.

"Sure, sure. Whatever you need. If I come back and you've wasted away from malnutrition though don't come crying to me."

Finally.

* * *

**Note:**

**Not entirely happy with this chapter. Meh.**

**Mustang has a lot of ulterior motives, and although her going to Liore seems a little too easy right now I promise we'll get to that later on too.**

**One thing I really appreciate about FMA (especially 2003's version) is that it touches on trauma a lot, which makes sense considering how fucked the Ishval War must've been. Not to mention the amount of trauma Ed and Al have been through what with transmuting their mother. I find it hard to believe Mustang doesn't have buckets of trauma from what _he's_ been through.**

**As always, thank you to all followers, favorites, and lurkers. I didn't really expect this to get so many follows with only two chapters, so honestly, thank you so much. Y'all humble me. Much love to pigs103 for the review.**


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